Page 8 of Eliza's Cursed Dragon

I didn’t understand, until some of Constancia’s words came back to me, with shadows’ cloak and gloomy night, transform to birds, a fearsome sight. Ugly and dark, feathers in black, take form of a crow, never to turn back. Ugly and dark, feathers in black, form of a crow.

“They aren’t crows,” I said astonished, before pulling some of my once raven-black hair forward and looking at the white strands in it. The white was the exact hue of my brothers’ feathers.

“You did that,” the witch said. “You kept the curse from yourself and you altered it.”

“How?”

“It’s your heart. You have the sweetest heart I have ever met. You’re kind and good and that stopped her evil spell, at least some.”

I lowered my head as fat tears gathered in my eyes. “They’re still birds though. Swans, crows, what’s the difference?” I sounded bitter even to my own ears.

“Don’t give up now, child.” Green fingers appeared in front of my vision, gently taking my chin and pushing it up so I could see into her deep eyes. “Let me tell you a secret. A swan’s curse can be lifted by weaving stinging nettles into a mantle.”

One more time hope flared through me. “Truly?”

“Truly. But be aware, child, you have to take a vow of silence for six years. You cannot utter, write, or communicate a word about you or the curse by any means, understand?”

Numbly I moved my head to show her I did. “You have six years to make the mantles. Once they’re done, you have to place them over your brothers under the full moon and the curse will be broken.”

“I can do that,” I said confidently. I could.

“I know you can and you will. One more thing, the stinging nettles have to be collected at a graveyard and you have to do all of it by yourself. Nobody can help you. If even one nettle is picked up by someone else, it won’t work.”

“I will,” I promised, staring at my brothers gathered around me, staring back at me through soulful eyes. “I swear I will break that curse.”

“How—” I broke my question off, because the witch and her cat were gone. There wasn’t a trace of them, as if they had evaporated into thin air.

If my hair hadn’t still been wet, I would have thought I had dreamed all this, but then a voice carried through the wind, “You have to go to the Outside, that’s the only place to find the graveyards.”

Edward

Three years went by since the witch cursed me, changing my life drastically. During the day I was still the same old Edward, overseeing the work on what was becoming a small town and enjoying myself very much. But I had to be careful. As soon as the sun vanished behind the horizon, my form changed into that of a dragon.

Which I supposed was something of a seminormal sight around here, but I didn’t doubt for one second that my father would disown me without hesitation the moment he found out about me. He hated anything supernatural. I suppose it was his logical mind that just couldn’t comprehend that there were things beyond normal physics, but that didn’t change the fact that he would banish me from this worksite and his life.

It wasn’t that I didn’t have enough money or the know-how to make it on my own, I did. However, I was enjoying my work here too much to let it go. It was the only thing that kept me sane. I had already given up on the idea of ever having a family of my own. True love, what a load of shit, I thought at least once a day. What woman would ever love me knowing I was a dragon? No, scratch that, what normal woman ever would?

I knew that was just an excuse for myself, because there were plenty of women who would see past who I had become. That wasn’t the point though. I didn’t want to make myself vulnerable to another person, hand her that much power over my secret, not as long as I enjoyed working for my dad.

Ironically, I excused my nightly absences to my father by pretending to go on dates, to find Mrs. Right. After three years of this he was becoming suspicious, and I realized I wouldn’t be able to use that ruse for much longer, not without actually producing a woman to show off.

There was just no way I could do that. I was stuck at the construction site. I could have driven to New York, where my father lived. Stopped on the side of the road at night and let the dragon free, but there was no way to keep my identity hidden once I reached New York. Even if I timed it just right to arrive in the early morning hours with the first rays of the sun, I would never be able to leave before nightfall. Or anywhere else for that matter.

So I was stuck here.

A monster living between the borders of two places that would have embraced my otherness with open arms; two towns filled with monsters like me. But I just wasn’t ready for that. First off, I wouldn’t have been able to explain it to dear old dad, and second… I just wasn’t ready.

So I made sure to get to work with the first morning light and leave before the last rays of the sun vanished. It was easier during summer, winters were a lot more difficult. More than once I had to leave in the middle of a heated discussion with Jack or another foreman because my skin was beginning to itch, the first signs of my body changing.

I made up a lie about ill health, about sudden bouts of nausea that had to be taken care of immediately, but one only had to look at me to call me a liar. I didn’t look ill at all. I was in the best shape of my life. I never shied away from hard work and if help was needed at any part of the construction sites, I was there.

Luckily, I was the boss and didn’t have to explain myself, but rumors were circulating. I worried I was running out of time. Sooner or later my secret would be discovered. I wasn’t ready for that, but I was preparing myself for it.

After a long flight—I won’t lie, I did enjoy those—I usually found a dark, secluded spot to rest for a while. I hadn’t slept since the witch put the spell on me, but I required rest during which I fell into a kind of meditative state. Still aware of my surroundings, but not fully conscious. An hour or two of those respites equaled eight hours of sleep for me, and I was strangely enjoying this perk. One was so much more productive this way.

It freed me to do my paperwork on the weekends, gave me time to catch up on e-mails and orders, all aiding me so that I could devote my time to the construction site throughout the week.

One of my favorite spots was an old graveyard. Its once-beautiful church was falling apart and my ever-overactive mind was already calculating how much it would cost to restore the building which must have been at least two hundred years old, judging by the architecture and the dates on the gravestones that were still visible.

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